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It was a slow day for Dr. Gaster. He had spent the majority of it stationed at his post at the communications center, monitoring the long dead radio waves stretching across the vacuum of space. There was some hope that perhaps one day a transmission would come through by distant travelers, but such a discovery would be a fluke at best. Any hope of reconnecting to Earth had been lost upon Gaster's realization upon waking from his sleep cycle a hundred years later. Regardless, he maintained his vigil, perhaps out of nostalgia, or perhaps out of sheer boredom.
Sighing, he shifted his weight in the small chair enclosed in the tight glass chamber. Though not outwardly demeaning, Dr. Gaster knew the truth behind the seat he occupied. Roughly four men could fit within the chamber if they were to stand side by side, nestled comfortably throughout the room's interior. The chair had been made especially for Gaster from the tools and materials he brought with him when he arrived one hundred years ago. It was then that they realized Gaster was stationed aboard the first manned flight of the Deep Space Expedition Program. He had been placed into stasis with two hundred volunteers for the mission. All had been revived, save for the three that had failed in their revival process. For reasons unknown, their systems had failed when the process was at its most critical juncture.
Gaster sat with his hands draped casually over the sides of the chair's metal armrests. The only thing of constant digital display in the room was the tachyon readout at the bottom right hand corner of the glass, showing the time of micro-gravity. It had now been less than a week since the accident that led to the deaths of the three volunteers. There had been an aftershock that had not been anticipated, an aftershock that was unknown to Deep Space and could only be explained by an alien technology.
Dr. Gaster lifted his wrist stud and absently checked the time displayed. The readout flashed his skin with a bright, high frequency glow. It seemed to pulsate through his body like a living heartbeat, despite the fact that there was nothing living inside of his body. Gaster let the wrist back down onto the chair's armrest, pushing it back down into the crevice between two of the four armrests that remained.
Dr. Gaster lifted one large, red, acne-ridden hand from the armrest and patted himself on the forehead until it settled back down. His furrowed brow suddenly relaxed as he let out a breath and closed his eyes.
To Gaster, it was as if he had only just now opened his eyes to his new world. His mind had barely even processed the fact that he was living again. Sometimes, Gaster could almost forget that he had been revived less than a week ago. The large man imagined if only for a moment that it was only a week ago that he had stepped out of his body for the stasis sleep. His memory was rather screwed, though. Gaster remembered the days leading up to his revival perfectly. The cryogenic chambers, the volunteers leaving, his own wifelessness and the outdated mission notes left for him. Nothing, however, went into the intermediate time in between.
Dr. Gaster stood up from his chair with great effort. The room rocked back and forth three times, causing Gaster to stumble. He pulled himself to the floor with his arms braced against the bottom of the rotating contour, once again exposing the red hand-wraps he wore.
Gaster rose to his feet slowly and instinctively closed one eye in dismay. The method had served him well for conquering this small obstacle. His first attempt to stamp out his mistake took him to the mess hall, where he had promptly vomited.
And now, he found himself in the same situation again. Only two weeks had passed since his revival, and each of them seemed to stretch like eternity.
He released a long breath and closed his eyes, taking one more second to acclimate to his new body. Though he knew the reason for his sickness, he did not treat his sickness. Thus, he continued to shuffle down the empty corridor with a light and deliberate step. With a more rapid pace, Dr. Gaster found himself springing along. His steps were long and accustomed to the movement within the dull red hallway, and his arms swung freely by his side. He couldn't tell if the corridor he had entered was circular or linear. Despite its length, it was honestly impossible to tell how long he had been walking. Time changed within Deep Space Station. Before the accident had occurred, there had been a singular stream of time – one that could be read from the dials and markings of the chaos engine. Now, there was a seemingly infinite string of time, all laid end to end and spliced together. To Gaster, the time leading up to the accident could have lasted a year, while the time after the incident could have been an hour long. It was all the same.
The tiny door marked, "Command Center" loomed just ahead of him. Behind it sat the man he had come to see. Gaster hadn't been in the command center for some time. A few hours, maybe, since being revived. They had figured it out soon after the incident. Gaster was indeed the one to blame for the demise of the three volunteers. While his measurements had been accurate and his readings precise, something had failed in the execution. The transmission from Earth had sparked an adverse reaction in the vicinity of the chaos engine that created Deep Space Station. It had created a ripple effect that rushed through the fragile station like the sea through a reed. It had jostled the ship, causing small sections of the Deep Space Station to break free from their holds. It was the fault of the chaos engine. It had stirred the sand and dirt in the nearby desert, creating a dust cloud that had rippled outward with the ocean current.
Dr. Gaster came to a stop at the door and hesitantly placed his hand on the smooth surface. He let his long, thick fingers slide eagerly along the smooth metal texture, feeling the low hum radiated by the door. With a small push on the door, he opened it silently until it was wide enough to enter.
The command center was a large, circular chamber. Gaster had been placed into the center that was most central to the powerful chaos engine. The large crystal was the core that kept the engine alive, vibrating and humming in the same manner as an online computer. A section of the crystalline river flowed down below the center, where the chaos engine floated in a metallic channel of water. The chaos engine sang in its constant melody, vibrating beautifully along the crystalline walls. In turn, the ship hummed with the engine.
Dr. Gaster approached the vibrant crystal, enraptured by the sound of the engine. It called to him like a lover, a brother, a father, yearning for Gaster's presence.
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